


serve my heart on a plate for ya

by noellesthings



Series: for all we know this could be canon [1]
Category: The Order (TV 2019)
Genre: BAMF Lilith, BAMF Zecchia, Canon-Typical Violence, Demons, F/F, Hell/Demon Realm, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD/Recovery, Possessive Language, The Order is stupid but Lilith is not, possessive!Zecchia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:41:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24874018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noellesthings/pseuds/noellesthings
Summary: When the portal chews her up and spits her out, Lilith just keeps on kicking.
Relationships: Lilith Bathory/Zecchia
Series: for all we know this could be canon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820947
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	serve my heart on a plate for ya

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely self-indulgent:
> 
> There are houses in Hell, poisonous plants, high society functions every month, and Zecchia has knowledge of Earth’s complex systems and ways of life. Because I said so. 
> 
> Also, there’s surprisingly little information on Zecchia herself, the Demon Realm, or the way demons live/function that I could gleam from The Order canon, so I basically let my imagination go nuts for this one.
> 
> Canon content did say that emperors are stronger than barons, and barons are stronger than presidents, so I used British nobility as power rankings. In case you are unfamiliar with that stuff it goes from lowest to highest: baron, viscount, earl, marquess, duke, (and I added) emperor.

When the portal chews her up and spits her out, Lilith lands on her feet. She is instantly aware of the heat, pressing around her on all sides, like being wrapped in a thousand wool coats which bite and prickle her skin.

Hell (or the demon realm, or wherever she ended up) is hot. 

Really fucking hot.

The sole of her shoe is already melting, the rubber a sticky mess which squishes against the cracked ground like an overdone marshmallow. It leaves white smeary footprints, which Lilith doesn’t like. It seems unnatural. There’s nothing white here. 

There’s _nothing_ at all here. There’s no visible sun, and the sky looks like both day and night, as if it can’t determine what time period it’s supposed to be. She’s standing on a wide plain of faded orange ground with more cracks in it than a spider’s web - small and black. Too thin to fall through, but solid enough to stand on them with her full weight. There’s the occasional pool of lava colored a vivid red. 

Hell, definitely.

Lilith is still panting from the exhilaration of the battle, hands curled subconsciously into fists, but when she twists around in search of her opponent, discovers Rogwan isn’t here. She can smell him - a sort of dark and bitter scent that makes her skin crawl, but it’s faint, and already dissipating, churning and blending among the scent of other dark, bitter things. Rogwan was here, was with her in the portal, but he isn’t now.

Instinctively, Lilith feels a need to fight, run, and hide all at once. The hairs on the nape of her neck are raised, thin and shiver-inducing, or maybe that’s the adrenaline coasting through her veins, making her feverish and chilly, despite the abysmal heat. She’s in Hell. There’s nothing to fight (not _yet_ , a sinister voice warns her) so that leaves Lilith with two options. Run or Hide? Timber is uncharacteristically silent. 

Her shoes make her stick out like a sore thumb, so Lilith ditches them altogether, even though the ground burns the soles of her feet. With no direction in mind besides the simple factor of _away_ , she begins to walk.

/

Hell is quiet.

It’s quieter than she thought it would be, which is weird, because all of religion tells her it should be filled with the screams of sinners or something classic like that. Even the pools of lava around her don’t bubble, but they do steam, tendrils of white smoke curling in the humid air.

Behind her, Lilith’s shoes turn into a gummy mess - smelling so strongly of burnt rubber and string it makes her nose twitch. There’s another scent, that bitter scent that smells sorta like Rogwan but definitely isn’t, but Lilith doesn’t have time to process _who_ or _what_ she’s smelling because a moment later something tries to punch her in the chest.

That something becomes many somethings, many demon something’s surrounding her all at once, their scent dark and bitter and echoed a thousand times over like endless reflections in the heat.

Lilith ducks, spins, and punches back.

Lilith _fights_.

Some of them are human and others are. not. Others are _things_ that come running and sprinting and _clawing_ at her on legs of twos and fours and tens; eyeballs sunken in deep enough to reveal whites like the smooth, milky inside of an egg; jaws lolling with inelegant shrieks, filled with rounded molars and incisors that, if clamped down on her arm, would do something more sinister than draw blood.

Lilith doesn’t let them. She doesn’t let those, those demon _things_ bite her, doesn’t let them get _near_ her unless she’s close enough to make the kill. There are bodies (but not really bodies, because some of them have no bodies, they just _are_ ) strewn around her in a heap, and it reminds her of the countless horror movies she’s watched, except this time Lilith isn’t laughing.

Lilith fights. She’s good at fighting.

But they - the demons, the non-humans, these _things_ \- come in packs, doubling their numbers each time, and first it’s ten then twenty then forty and by the time there are hundreds Lilith feels terror settle in her gut because there are _too many of them_ , and then one of those _things_ slithers its dark tendril around her arm, and another _bites and and_

Blackness.

/

In the blackness there is pain. 

It starts slow, the way dehydration starts slow but then gets really _bad_ all at once, and you can’t think of anything except how your lips are chapped something ugly and your skin’s so dry it cracks; till all you can think of is how withered your insides feel and how water can make it all go away, but there isn’t water and there never will be.

It’s kinda like that. 

Kinda.

Except there are no words no thoughts no nothing, pain runs up her spine and scorches her fingertips, dissolves her skin, rips her organs into bright pink chunks - Lilith is burning from the outside in, and it hurts. Hurts worse than anything she’s ever felt and anything she’s ever thought was possible, every atom and molecule and every vein is screaming and spinning and she just wants it to _end_ -

/

The first thing Lilith realizes when _it_ stops is she’s lying on something coarse and solid that could be floor.

The second thing she realizes is pain, or rather, the absence of it. Lilith’s limbs feel very, very sore, heavy; her brain feels like some jammed fifty-two rocks up her skull - but it’s nothing like _the pain_ she felt in the blackness. All in all, it’s no big deal in comparison to what she just felt. She can handle this.

Lilith opens her eyes.

There’s someone looking down at her. Someone grinning and familiar and unexpected in every scenario except for this specific one, fever-red eyes appraising and curious, dark hair hanging in messy strands around her shoulders. Red mark on her face.

“Zecchia? What are you doing here?” Lilith asks. Except it comes out more like a raspy croak, with an inelegant amount of coughs and jerks and gasps in between.

“I could ask you the same question.” Zecchia replies, and her voice echoes with that inhuman roar. Lilith is disturbed that she finds it somewhat mollifying. “And don’t sit up. You’re one second away from death, so I wouldn’t advise it. You look like shit.”

Lilith sits up anyways. The movement sends a jolt of pain coursing down her spine - _fuck_ \- and she squeezes her eyes shut briefly till it passes. “I thought I was already _in_ Hell.”

“Of course you would think that.” Zecchia snaps. She waves a finger around the room. “This? _Not_ Hell. Transdimensional plane.” She sounds annoyed.

“Whatever.” Lilith groans, even though that actually makes sense, and looks around.

She’s in a room. An actual room _room_ that looks normal of all things, like a living room but with inverted colors. The walls are black like charcoal and the floor is grey; there’s a large, artisanal rug in the center with beige fringe. The hairs are coarse beneath her palm, which is probably what she felt before waking up. Lilith can smell Zecchia: old, sweet, and bitter. Her eyes coast over a coffee table - an fucking _coffee table_ \- and then up to where there’s some sort of skull mounted on the wall that looks suspiciously human.

“What the fuck.” She choke-gasps, willing her throat to start _working_ again. “Hell has houses?”

“Again, _not_ Hell. Man, you humans are so self-centered.”

Lilith glares at her, then presses her fingers to her temples when the motion makes her head throb. “Where am I?”

“I just told you. Transdimensional plane. Well, a transdimensional plane. Let’s just say there are a lot of them, and your world is sandwiched somewhere in the middle. You came into a plane that was really bad, for humans at least. When I found you passed out in your own blood, I brought you back to my home.”

“How do I get back?”

“To your pathetic Earth?” Zecchia guesses, and Lilith nods. “You can’t. Someone has to summon you, and since you’re not a demon, that won’t happen.” Zecchia grins. “I guess you’re stuck here. It’ll be interesting to see how fast you die. I’m betting three days. Actually, you’re surprisingly durable, so maybe five days-”

“Would you shut up? I need to _think_.”

Zecchia raises an eyebrow. “ _Excuse you?/ _Oh sure, give the bitch time to think. I just saved your ass from getting tortured for eternity, but _of course_ I’ll give you time to think.”__

____

__

Oh. That. Blackness and pain and-

Lilith’s hands curl into fists instinctively, yanking the short strands of carpet against the inside of her palm. If Zecchia notices the motion, she doesn’t comment on it, and Lilith forces her fingers to lie flat. Her skin is grimy, and there’s something black underneath her cuticles. 

Lilith supposes she should say thank you, since Zecchia _did_ save her life and all that. She doesn’t. Staring at her blackened fingers, Lilith asks, “What were those _things_?”

“Demons. A lot of demons. Those _things_ you’re referring to are blood demons, specifically. They attack you and when they draw blood, infect you, so you’re under _unimaginable_ pain and agony. Or so I hear.” Zecchia adds on cheerfully. “We don’t get a lot of nasty humans around here, so they probably smelled your blood and went _wild_.” Zecchia grins widely, all teeth, and continues.

“There were also some pain demons, terrestrial demons, lust demons. Most were presidents, but there were even a few barons. You killed at least five hundred of them. I'm surprised you managed to survive for that long. It’s actually really impressive, for a human.” Zecchia gives her an appraising look.

“Yeah. Great.” Lilith isn’t sure whether to feel offended or flattered, but either way she’s pretty sure it’s time to get off the floor. Grinding her fingers into the carpet, she rises. A bout of pain follows, but this time Lilith is ready for it. Mostly. Her spine burns, and it hurts so much her eyes actually water. 

Great. 

Lilith sways on her feet, brings one hand to clutch at the stabbing pain in her side, but doesn’t fall. Again, she’s had worse. Very recently. “Does Hell have a bathroom?”

Zecchia glares at her. Lilith rolls her eyes. “Fine. Does this transdimensional plane have a bathroom?”

“So demanding,” Zecchia mutters, but takes her there.

Zecchia walks quickly, mindless of Lilith’s pain, out of the living room and through a hallway, takes two rights, and kicks open a charcoal door that matches the color of the walls. She steps inside, and points to the toilet, which is surprisingly clean, although the water inside is brackish. “Does this please her royal highness?”

“Her royal highness would prefer it if you left.” Lilith growls.

“Fine.” Zecchia snaps. She mutters something that sounds like filthy chimp under her breath.

Once Zecchia is gone, Lilith closes the door behind her. It doesn’t lock, which is annoying, but to be honest Lilith is still surprised she’s inside an actual fucking house in the actual fucking demon realm, and not dead. She doesn’t think Zecchia is interested in spying on her, but Lilith still waits at least five minutes before Zecchia’s scent (old, bitter, sweet) has completely dissipated before tugging her shirt over her head. 

Lilith looks like shit. There’s sweat conjugated under her eyes, collarbones, and in between her shoulder blades. Her skin looks very pale, though Lilith isn’t sure if that’s because she was just tortured, or because all the walls in Zecchia’s house consist of a flat black.

When she inspects her chest, Lilith expects the pattern of bruises she sees crisscrossing her skin. They’re blue and purple and wine red, tender when she pokes them experimentally. There’s a set of circular gashes down each vertebrae of her spine, which explains the shooting pain she feels every time she moves. A horseshoe shape is pressed into her side, and the edges glow orange. Weird. Lilith knows it’ll all heal in a matter of hours thanks to werewolfness, but in the meantime it still hurts like a bitch.

She clamps down on her tongue, and pulls back her shirt, which is damp with various stains. When she steps outside, Zecchia is waiting for her.

/

“I need a grimoire.” Lilith demands the moment she walks out, and slams her hands on the (actually fucking) coffee table situated in the living room. Or what Lilith gathers is the living room.

Zecchia’s eyes coast over Lilith for a moment, and she tips her head to the side. “Sure, and I need to get black out drunk and run off with a hooker.” 

“What?”

“Oh, I thought we were just saying idiotic stuff.”

Lilith growls. “I’m serious, Zecchia. I need a grimoire. Where can I find one?”

Zecchia raises an eyebrow, and snorts. “What are you talking about?” She bares her teeth. “We’re demons. We don’t _need_ grimoires.”

“Well, I need one to get back to Earth.”

“Tough luck. I told you, Lilith, there’s no way you’re getting back to your miserable world. Just accept it, dummy. Instead, you could come outside with me. I’ll teach you to survive here, free of charge.”

If Lilith wasn’t so annoyed, she might have been surprised that Zecchia knew her name. “I don’t need your lessons. What I need is to get back to Earth. Today.” 

/

For an entire day (or what her watch tells her is an entire day, because the sky is unhelpful), Lilith brainstorms. She thinks of all the ways to get to Earth and back without a grimoire, racks her brain for spell after spell that might have the slightest bearing on how to get her back, though she remembers little of these, and when she tries even the simplest incantation, it blows up in her face. Literally.

Magic doesn’t work here, clearly, which makes Lilith so angry she punches a hole in one of the walls. Her knuckles are already bruised and her fist ends up covered in drywall, but it quells her anger all the same. 

Lilith thinks of her Knights.

She brainstorms harder.

She brainstorms till she’s grown anxious from sitting in the same room. She brainstorms till Zecchia’s charcoal walls stop looking weird and start looking more or less normal, like someone fucked up their interior design job. Besides, Lilith has always liked the color black.

She brainstorms for so long her eyes start blurring, before marching into Zecchia’s room and kicking down the door.

The demon was sprawled upside-down on her bed - yes, a fucking bed - floating a bunch of rusty nails above her head. When Lilith walks in, the nails shoot into the wall beside her.

“What?” Zecchia snaps.

“Let’s go.”

Zecchia raises an eyebrow at her.

“If I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well get a tour of the place. Learn how to ‘survive’ here.” Lilith raises her chin. “Her royal highness requests it.”

Zecchia grins. “Finally. I was going to _die_ of boredom.” She flips off the bed and onto her feet.

Lilith rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Let’s go.”

/

Outside, the landscape has not miraculously changed into a green, familiar university. The sky is still a mysterious cross between day and night. The ground is still peppered with thin cracks. And it’s still very, very hot.

It’s the first time Lilith has been outside since, since almost dying, and seeing something other than the walls of Zecchia’s house is instantly a relief - and terrifying. All at once, the hairs on Lilith’s arms raise, and she feels an urgent, crucial need to run.

Run, before the demons caught her and tortured her again.

_“Hello?”_

Lilith blinks, and realizes she was rooted in place, Zecchia yards ahead of her. Zecchia was barefoot and didn’t seem entirely affected by the heat. Figures.

Zecchia waits for Lilith to catch up to her before launching off into a speech. “Alright, dummy. This is important. My home is over there, so this whole stretch of land is mine. All mine. No one else gets to forge their stupid house here. Over there…”

Lilith learns:

This transdimensional plane is long and wide and the ground is ever-expanding. Zecchia says there are no limits here like humans perceive, which is why this particular plane expands for eternity. Other transdimensional planes do not. But this one does.

Zecchia’s house is located on what is perceived as an edge. There’s a massive ravine out back, which Zecchia says they’ll tour later. Its edges are jagged and deep and it bleeds frothing yellow liquid, like someone took a knife and cut into the ground to extract a vital organ. In the front of the house is more plain. There are rocky caverns protruding with no rhyme or rhythm or reason, and pools of lava which change location every day.

Or, what Lilith thinks is a day according to her watch. Time works differently here. A human day can be a thousand days for demons, or two, or twenty-two. The logistics are, as Zecchia puts it, too complicated for a human chimp to understand. Lilith says that if Zecchia wasn’t such a dumbass, she might be able to explain it to her.

(When Lilith gets back, she’ll tell her Knights about it all.)

/

“So. You’re in my transdimensional plane. If you’re going to stay here, there are rules.” Zecchia announces once they get back, clearly enjoying bossing Lilith around.

“No magic, because that human shit doesn’t work up here, and I don’t want you blowing a hole in my home. Also, no bringing other demons into my home. No talking to other demons near my home. You can go outside, but if you die, that’s your own fault.” She pauses, and here Zecchia leans in close enough that Lilith can see the thick redness that makes up her eyes.

“If you steal my stuff, I’ll know. And I’ll kill you.” 

Timber shifts beneath her skin, and Lilith clenches her fists. 

/

Seven human days after Lilith landed in the transdimensional plane, Zecchia marches into her room (a large closet which Zecchia said Lilith could borrow), and spits at her.

“What the fuck?” Lilith growls. Timber is burning under her skin and she’s already on her feet.

“You need food.” Zecchia growls back.

The statement is so obvious that Lilith momentarily forgets that she’s pissed. She remembers a millisecond later, along with her hunger. “Yeah? So?”

“ _So?_ Why didn’t you say something?”

“What, I’m supposed to _remind you_ I need food? It’s none of your fucking business, anyway.”

Zecchia rolls her eyes. “Look, dummy, I don’t have any food for you to eat. Thief demons don’t consume meals every hour like you chimps do, and anything you _do_ try to eat in this plane is going to kill you on the spot. Humans have terribly weak immune systems.”

Lilith blinks uncertainly. She has not had anything to eat, yes, but she figured it was because Zecchia was a raging bitch, that this was some sort of torture or punishment or…. 

“You don’t seem concerned.” Zecchia notes. “You haven’t even brought up food in the time you’ve been here.”

“Yeah.” Lilith snaps, suddenly fed up. “You’re a demon. And this _is_ some type of Hell, or transdimensional demon plane, or whatever. So I thought.” She trails off, hating the way Zecchia is looking at her, and hating the pang in her stomach even more. Hunger. Weakness. It was all a weakness.

Zecchia’s eyes are wide. “You thought I was _starving_ you?” As if in after thought, she adds, “I _would_ do that. But not to you. You haven’t enslaved me. I mean, you did enslave me, but that was your ridiculous chimp from the mortal world.”

The pain Lilith feels in her stomach is definitely not guilt, and most definitely hunger, and she stands her ground.

Zecchia shakes her head. “I’ll take care of this.” She states loudly, before marching off.

/

‘Take care of this’ is universal even across transdimensional planes, for two human days later Lilith wakes up to a mountain of food: hot dogs and burgers and containers of ice cream tipped over on their sides, racks of meat sealed in airtight plastic and apricots lying against brightly colored bags of beans.

Zecchia stands in the center of it all, one leg propped up on a stack of chocolate cakes. Her smile is very wide, and very sharp, and very proud.

“Did you raid a supermarket?”

Zecchia nods, and Lilith arches an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“Some noobs summoned me to your pathetic world. Unfortunately for them, they didn’t perform the correct incantation. Amateurs.” Zecchia’s smile is growing even wider as she talks, eyes glistening as she maneuvers herself through the pile of food with surprising balance. “ _So_ I scattered their shit all over the room, and while they were busy trying to figure out why they  
messed up, I raided a store.”

The smell of food is so enticing that Lilith’s knees feel weak, or that may just be prolonged hunger. Her stomach growls. Fortunately, Zecchia doesn’t hear it. Lilith snags a cheeseburger, and starts to stuff it in her mouth. “Wow.” Lilith says between bites, “You stole all this food. This is. Amazing.”

“Yes.” Zecchia replies haughtily, and clearly Lilith said the right thing, for the demon practically glows under the praise.

/

Living with Zecchia is no piece of cake (which Lilith now has access to in large amounts). 

Naturally, as with any time two people are lumped into a room and forced to coexist, there’s tension. Zecchia gets under Lilith’s skin in a way that should be illegal: she hogs the bathroom for what Lilith knows is _specifically_ to annoy her, and there are arguments and insults and Zecchia stealing what little Earth belongings Lilith has left and four times Lilith has to talk Timber down from killing her. For the first month (according to Lilith’s watch) Lilith can’t stop punching walls - she’s so angry. 

Somewhere along the line Zecchia stops calling Lilith _bitch_ , and Lilith stops acting like one. The arguments don’t stop, but there are certainly less of them, and all that anger Lilith has pent away subsides into something close to acceptance. The water that runs all around the pipes is the color of mud - and tastes like it - but is surprisingly filling, and like her living arrangement, it’s one Lilith learns to maybe even like. In a choice between mud-water and surviving on the transdimensional plane by her lonesome Lilith picks mud-water any day, not that she’ll ever admit it aloud.

Lilith accepts.

There’s still the fact that Zecchia doesn’t seem to ever sleep and makes a whole lot of noise jamming various nails into walls, but sometimes it’s almost nice, or something, because the noise reminds Lilith she’s not alone out here.

Lilith adjusts.

She still misses her Knights in a way that’s physically painful, misses the growl and hunt and thrill of chasing down a baddie with bad magic. She misses Hamish’s alcohol, Randall’s nonsensical theories and Jack’s laugh, and after a while she misses fresh fruit because Zecchia hasn’t been summoned in a while and she’s tired of eating roasted chicken and ice cream all day. She misses Nicole. Misses her hair and her scent and the way her lips felt when they kissed-

The sky is weird. She’s still not used to it. Lilith has trouble sleeping with the lights on but it’s even worse when the lights are off. It is hard for her to close her eyes. All that blackness. All that blackness makes her think of it, of the dehydration-type pain and blood demons and-

Lilith fights through it.

Lilith is good at that.

/

They go outside, as they do, and it’s been two hours according to her watch when something yellow springs out and slices Lilith’s arm.

Lilith bites her tongue. Whatever cut her shoulder cut it deep, tearing jaggedly through the fabric of her shirt to find the flesh nestled beneath it. The wound bleeds sluggishly, a darker-than-rose red coating her entire sleeve, the front of her shirt, drops of blood dripping lazily down her arm to rest at the inside of her wrist.

She brings her non-injured hand, quickly, to clamp over the wound. It stings like a bitch, and the effort to stop the blood flow is vain, but better than nothing. Lilith can already feel herself getting lightheaded. She continues onward, and probably would have if Zecchia didn’t turn around to explain something about a pit of lava, and see the blood covering Lilith’s hand.

Zecchia freezes. “You’re hurt?”

She’s at Lilith’s side before Lilith has a chance to respond, hovering around her shoulder. “Shit. That’s deep. We’ll head back to my house, I should have some spare pillowcases to stop the bleeding-”

An unearthly howl resounds through the air, cutting Zecchia’s sentence in two. Lilith freezes, because she recognizes that sound, and it sounds very much like-

“Fuck.” Zecchia says. 

“Blood demon?” It isn’t a guess.

“Plural. Lots of them.” Zecchia looks around, her thick eyes gleaning. “Follow me.”

Zecchia takes off, and Lilith blindly follows. She keeps one hand clenched around her shoulder, the blood wet between her fingers, slippery around her skin. She has to walk quickly to keep up, though her own adrenaline makes it easy to match Zecchia’s footsteps. Already Lilith feels her heartbeat double-beating like a drum, thin hairs across the nape of her neck rising.

“You’re a demon.” Lilith says they walk.

“Observant.” 

“I mean, you can communicate with them. Call them off.”

“It doesn’t work like that. Blood demons _crave_ blood. Once they’ve picked up the scent there’s nothing that can stop them. Maybe an Emperor demon, but they don’t hang around here, and I’m sure as fuck not calling one. I just didn’t expect to have to stop these blood demons from tearing someone apart. Usually I join in.”

They come to a halt in front of a large slab of rock, and Lilith recognizes Zecchia’s plan instantly. Stand behind the rock, cover your back, that’s one less surface you have to worry about protecting.

“Move.” Zecchia snaps, and when Lilith doesn’t, Zecchia sighs impatiently. “I know you want to fight, but that wound is going to be burning very, very soon.”

Lilith glares at her. Zecchia glares back, eyes blood red and narrow.

The pain in her shoulder spikes. Shit, Zecchia is right, Lilith can already feel her arm burning. She moves till her spine is flat against the rocky wall.

They come. Ten of them; piercing shrieks that make her ears ring like the after effects of a bomb, all shrill and thin, their skin dragging, eyes foaming and leaking and fixed only on _her_.

Zecchia cracks her neck. Lilith presses her spine harder against the wall. They’re surrounded.

“Fuck.” Zecchia says again. 

/

Lilith is swimming in the blackness (all pain and fire and _no no no_ she’s she’s fine).

She’s aware, suddenly and all at once, of an aching pain in her shoulder, the leather of Zecchia’s couch beneath her skin, and that she’s very, very much alive. Her throat feels dry and her lips are cracked in three places, and running her tongue across them feels like touching cardboard. Lilith groans. 

Zecchia is hovering around her. “You’re awake.” She observes.

The lights burn her retinas with a little too much force, and Lilith brings a hand up to her eyes as she sits up in an attempt to block it. It doesn’t work. Her shoulder really hurts, and she reminds herself to move a little more carefully for these next five minutes.

“Hey.” Lilith doesn’t remember how she got on the couch, or even how she got to Zecchia’s place. The last she remembers is the searing pain in her shoulder growing even bolder, and Zecchia _tearing_ demons apart. She’s never seen anyone fight like that, not even her werewolves. (The thought sends a pang in her chest, and she pushes it down.)

As much as she loathes to admit it, Lilith is jealous. Zecchia moved with simultaneous fury and rage and skill all rolled up into one, her movements impossibility fast and every blow precise. _Don’t fuck with me_ , Zecchia had told them, so very long ago, and now Lilith believes her.

“Your shoulder should heal soon.” Zecchia explains, unaware of Lilith’s examination of her fighting tactics. “I removed the toxins.” 

There’s a moment of silence between them, and Lilith realizes that that’s twice now that Zecchia has saved her life. She shifts on the couch. The leather is smooth beneath her palm, even if the armrest is stained with what is probably her own blood.

“You’re an amazing fighter.” Lilith begrudgingly admits.

Zecchia runs a hand through her hair, and Lilith intentionally ignores the smile which flickers over her features. “I know.” Zecchia says, and puffs her chest.

Lilith swallows. “Thank you.” She tacks on, perhaps it’ll seem like an afterthought, “For saving my life.” She pointedly looks everywhere but Zeechia, at the couch and the wall and the coarse hairs of the carpet, mahogany and wine red crisscrossed with amber and gold, and then snaps her gaze back up when the couch shifts.

Zecchia is very very close, leaning over, one hand pressed into the leather, fingertips almost touching Lilith’s own. Zecchia is very, very close, close enough that her scent - old bitter sweet sweet old bitter - is filling up Lilith’s nostrils, traversing around the room.

When she blinks, Lilith almost misses it: Zecchia swirls her arm around Lilith’s wounded one, - healing as the seconds tick by - red orbs thick.

“I saved your life.” Zecchia purrs. “You’re _mine._ ”

/

Zecchia and Lilith walk outside daily (according to Lilith’s watch). It’s hot and humid and Lilith doesn’t know when the heat stopped scrubbing at her skin and started acting like another layer of it, but it happened so there’s that.

They talk: Zecchia informs her of everything there is to know about this plane and then some, Lilith tunes out the parts she feels are unimportant, dismisses demonic politics and fills the silences with her own questions instead.

They talk: Zecchia knows a _ton_ about life on Earth and how society functions, and when Lilith questions her about her knowledge, Zecchia just shrugs.

“I’m old.” She replies, and proceeds to question Lilith some more. She wants to know everything about Lilith’s life - her childhood, her friends, her parents, where she went to school and what her first memory was and who was her first kiss. Lilith changes the subject.

/

Lilith isn’t sure when she started noticing the way Zecchia moved - graceful, casual, and yet there was something about her that was purely dangerous, as if there was an animal coiled inside of her, waiting to spring. (Lilith can relate). Or the way her eyes look - something _more_ hidden in those thick red orbs, something that almost seems to glimmer, to call out, to invite, if she searches for it.

Occasionally Lilith will ask a question that catches Zecchia by surprise - a question about her childhood, for example, if demons ever were children - and there’s that half a second where Zecchia stares at her, face blank as she formulates an answer and eyes so wide Lilith can see her own reflection staring back - it’s then that she thinks of Nicole.

Nicole is kind and calm and totally polite, underneath it all she’s a good practitioner and she wears her heart on her sleeve. Zecchia does, too, she’s possessive and calm and violent yet her heart is _there_ , so plainly obvious, and don’t think Lilith hasn’t noticed the looks Zecchia has (always) sent her way.

/

Lilith dreams of dark cherry pit eyes.

 _Lilith,_ A voice hisses. _My Lilith._

When she wakes up, there’s a red mark on her cheek that doesn’t come off.

It feels like a taint.

It feels like-

/

Two nights later, Lilith wakes up screaming. 

She wakes up screaming and the lights are off and it’s all blackness, so she’s tearing at her sheets and writhing and shaking and painpain blackness pain and suddenly Zecchia is hovering above her.

“Lilith,” Zecchia is saying, “Breathe, calm down, what the fuck,” and Lilith must have said something related to blackness, for a moment later Zecchia lights up the room with a snap of her fingers.

“What the fuck.” Zecchia says again. She’s crouching on the bed.

Lilith sits up, presses her spine against the wall. Her heart hammers in her chest. “I had a nightmare.” It sounds stupid and weak, she regrets the words the moment they exit her mouth, but she can’t take them back and they just sort of float there between them.

But Zecchia isn’t laughing or grinning or calling Lilith _pussy_ or anything, she simply shifts closer to Lilith on the bed and asks, “about the blood demons?”

Lilith shudders, and she hates herself for it. She remembers the blackness, the pain within the blackness, all burning scorching and-

“Breathe.” Zecchia’s saying again.

Lilith does. In out in out till the shadows on the wall stop blurring and her brain can _think_ again. Her fingers prickle, and she realizes her nails made four identical indents in her palms. Lilith sighs, and Zecchia reaches up to twirl a lock of her hair, briefly, before letting it go.

Lilith’s throat feels dry.

Blankets tangle at her waist and Zecchia is pressed against the fabric of her grey shirt, peering at her. Lilith is hyper-aware of Zecchia’s arm as it moves to her back, fingers tracing up the vertebrae of her spine, settling lightly on each scar that formed there.

“They can’t hurt you.” Zecchia says, almost absentmindedly, and it echoes like a promise.

“Zecchia.” Lilith says.

Zecchia smiles, her teeth flashing fluorescent against the wall. “ _My Lilith._ ”

Lilith tells her brain to shut up, and kisses her.

/

One kiss slips into two, and the next day there are a few more, and then a month passes and then:

“I need you to attend a function with me.”

Lilith raises an eyebrow. Zecchia is sitting in a bar stool at the counter, watching Lilith sear a couple venomous plants she picked from the ground outside. Funny, the toxins no longer bother her.

“Hell has functions.” Lilith shakes her head. “I still think that’s fucking weird.”

“ _Formal_ functions.” Zecchia emphasizes.

“Right, right.” Lilith doesn’t like to pay attention to demonic politics, as much as it interests Zecchia. Lilith couldn’t care less who was a baron and who wasn’t, or which demon became a president even though they _totally_ didn’t deserve it, despite the fact that Zecchia seemed to gossip about this as if it was a hot new love affair in the tabloids.

“So, you’re coming with me?” Zecchia asks.

Lilith opens her mouth to say no, but it sort of dies in her throat. Lilith normally says no, because 'formal function' sounds a lot like a place where she’d have to dress up and look nice and pretty at. 

“I attend them every year.” Zecchia elaborates, probably because she knows Lilith has tuned out Zecchia’s political talks in the past. “All the demons will be there.” Zecchis croons persuasively, though upon seeing Lilith's expression clarifies, “No presidents. No blood demons. They’re uneducated.” She sniffs haughtily. “And there’s a good chance I might get promoted to viscount this time. Plus, if I bring a date, it’ll make me look more sophisticated.”

Lilith chokes. “ _A date?_ ” She doesn’t know what they are, yet, if they are anything at all, a couple kisses and cliche butterflies in her stomach and-

Zecchia hums. Her gaze is earnest, surprisingly patient while she waits for Lilith to answer, and a tad naive. Lilith thinks of Nicole. Lilith thinks of Zecchia’s fingers on her spine. “Alright.”

“Perfect! It’s tonight.”

/

Lilith has exactly zero idea what dress code for a formal function is, having never attended one herself. She roots around in Zecchia’s closet, and finally finds a dress. It’s black - big surprise there - and tight and stops well above her knee. It’s got thin straps, and a zipper on the side. It also makes Lilith feel very, horribly exposed.

When she steps outside, Zecchia whistles. “You look fucking awesome.” Zecchia praises, which makes Lilith feel annoyingly warm.

Lilith settles for fluffing her hair, and a good old fashioned, “Fuck you.”

Zecchia snorts. Lilith takes a second to scan her outfit; it’s the shirt she wore the first time they summoned her, black with wide cuffs at her wrists made of some multi-layered fabric, slacks, and pointy shoes. Lilith takes her arm, her fingers tangling in the fabric at Zecchia wrist; it feels softer than she thought it would. 

There’s a hissing sound, and a portal coalesces in front of them, its edges glowing purple, the center filled with a dark substance that looks like squid ink.

The room on the other side of the portal is very large, wide, and grey-walled. At least fifty chandeliers swing from chains suspended to the ceiling, so all in all everything is pretty well-lit. 

Expectedly, the room is _filled_ with demons.

Tall, short, stout. Black, grey, red. Some are shapeless and float around the room in clouds, others are tall enough to touch the ceiling, though most are built like Zecchia, more human-like rather than not. As Zecchia promised, Lilith sees no blood demons, instead only demons of a higher class: barons and viscounts, a group of dukes arriving through a portal similar to the one she and Zecchia used, viscounts bowing to marquesses and a large group of emperors staring at them all. What she can only assume are demon waiters mill around the room, carrying trays of black sludge in cut crystal glasses, which Lilith knows is the closest thing to alcohol in this plane. Zecchia immediately flags one of the waiters, snags two black drinks, and downs the first one in a second, shoving the second drink into Lilith’s hand.

Zecchia joins a group of demons conversing in the corner of the room - barons, Lilith identifies - and the group emits a high pitched shriek when they see Zecchia arrive - a sound of recognition. There’s a lull in conversation when they turn their gazes to Lilith, and then a tall, grey haired baron asks,

“This is?”

“Lilith.” Lilith answers, and the baron shoots Zecchia a look which Lilith catches but doesn’t fully understand. “I recently spawned.”

The baron nods in understanding, and the conversation continues once more.

Lilith watches Zecchia closely. She’s behaving differently, more formally, more controlled. Lilith may dislike demon politics, but she is familiar with how it works - talk up people who are higher on the corporate ladder, kiss some ass, shake some hands. She decides to leave Zecchia to her devices, who is now proudly introducing herself to a viscount dressed in red.

Lilith looks around for more drinks, turns, and almost collides with a demon to her left, werewolf reflexes allowing her to duck out of the way just before the collision. She straightens, remembers that this event is important to Zecchia, and has a reluctant apology ready on her lips, _even though_ it was the other asshole’s fault for almost smacking her in the face.

Rogwan smiles down at her.

Lilith doesn’t realize she’s moving backwards till Zecchia’s hand curls around her own to stop her, nails prickling lightly against her flesh, grounding. She’s not sure when Zecchia broke away from the viscount dressed in red and came here.

“Rogwan,” Zecchia says smoothly, inclining her head, and it becomes clear she’s exaggerating her politeness, though no one comments on it. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. This is my Lilith. Lilith, this is Rogwan. Though, I believe you’ve already met?”

Rogwan glances between Lilith and Zecchia, and, after a beat, raises his eyebrow. “Yes, we’ve been acquainted. I must admit I’m _impressed_ by your actions. It took skill to leap into that portal. And it seems there’s been some _changes_ since we last saw each other.” His eyes focus briefly on the mark on Lilith’s cheek, and Lilith forces herself to stay calm.

“Though, I must say,” and here he leans in close, eyes locking onto Lilith’s with unabashed lechery, as if he could see the fear squirming around inside her, “I regret not tasting your fear. You would have been _fun_ to play with.”

Zecchia snakes the arm not holding Lilith’s own around her waist in a gesture that’s definitely possessive, but then again, everything Zecchia does is. “Lilith doesn’t want to _play_ with you. Go find some other demon to bother.”

Rogwan’s eyes narrow, and Zecchia bristles. His jaw clenches, the red symbol on his skin flexing in and out as the muscle in his cheek moves. Zecchia stands a head shorter than him, so Lilith is surprised when Rogwan backs down. Then again. Lilith remembers the way Zecchia fights, and concludes it's not that big of a surprise.

“Certainly.” Rogwan says, smiling again, “I would never intentionally harm a demon, of course.” He dips his head. “Zecchia. I hope your promotion goes as planned. Lilith, pleasure.” And he wanders off.

/

It’s only later when she realizes she has not thought of Nicole once.

/

Lilith moves into Zecchia’s room, and they spend all day in bed, celebrating.

“So,” Lilith says, tracing a blackened symbol on Zecchia’s back, “You’re a viscount now. Does that mean you’re leaving me for a hotter, new demon?”

Zecchia bristles underneath her palm, and Lilith throws her head back and laughs. 

/

Time is different here, and it passes all the same.

/

Lilith remembers her Knights (if they were ever really hers, because they weren’t, not like this, not like Zecchia is _hers_ ) with care. Lilith feels the pain of losing them, but it is muted, as if it happened to someone else, in another life, so very long ago. It didn’t used to be like this, it used to be a pain so sharp and slicing, a physical pain she couldn’t escape. 

Lilith remembers: Hamish, his ability to make drinks with quick, deft hands and the fearless way he led them into battle; Jack, loyal Jack who wants the world and will die to save it; witty and strong Randall with his jokes and lightning-fast tongue. 

There’s a place for Nicole, too. 

Lilith loved Nicole once, she thinks, but it's a dead-love now, because love for Nicole, for the Knights, is pointless. They are on the mortal coil, and whatever changed inside her here changed for good - a demon-werewolf hybrid, the first of her kind. Lilith loves Zecchia in a new way, stronger, a way that can’t compare and humans can’t comprehend, a way that would burn a human from the inside out.

/

 _My Lilith_ , Zecchia croons, running her hands down Lilith’s skin, nipping at the inside of her thigh. Something warm and pleasant swirls inside her, all good (ironically) and right. My Lilith.

 _My Zecchia_ , Lilith mutters back, fingernails dark and grey-bitten when they rake down her spine.

/

If she ever gets yanked back, Lilith promises she’ll find her way back home. Zecchia promises to never stop looking.

/

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely self-indulgent, as mentioned above, but just thought I’d say it twice cuz HEY I’m singlehandedly steering this ship. I’m a Lilith/Zecchia addict and Proud of it.
> 
> Also no one has mentioned Zecchia on here to date and just. Hello?? She’s awesome. 
> 
> Come blabber to me on tumblr! noellesthings.tumblr.com


End file.
